


seal my heart, break my pride.

by itsgameover



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Implied/Referenced Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25404694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsgameover/pseuds/itsgameover
Summary: Jongdae has been forced to marry the son of his family’s tormentor, that doesn't mean he will submit easily.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 46
Kudos: 71
Collections: Challenge #5 — Opposites Attract





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very fond of royalty AUs and historical books, also I'm very fond of xiuchen and the endless posibilities of an enemies to lovers adventure featuring these two. And thus, this fic was born.  
> As usual, thank you mod N for hosting this challenge and working so dilligently for it. You are the best!  
> Hope you all enjoy this fic <3  
> (hi! the first 1k words of this fic were written for Tiny Sparks -check them out on twitter!- the rest is out of my own volition and so much worldbuilding i left in the drafts <3)

Behind the lavish clothes, silk fabric and gold thread, and the elaborate headpieces, Minseok is nothing more than a mortal man. And seemingly a miserable man. He looks downright sad, eyes downcast as he strips, taking off his grandcoat and opening his crimson robe, revealing his broad chest, blemished with the stains of war, scars like cracks on clear porcelain. He looks pissed, he looks confused, frustrated, brows furrowed and lips drawn into a thin line.

Jongdae is furious. 

‘ _How dare you!_ ’ Jongdae wants to scream, tears prickling the corners of his eyes lined in khol, pride stuck in his throat, unable to be swallowed because there is too much fury inside of him to accept eating the one thing keeping him alive. How dare this man, the son of the Emperor who burned down his family’s small island for the crime of refusing to send their daughters to be enslaved as concubines, look like this?

Jongdae feels irate, utterly ashamed for letting himself be sold like a brood mare in exchange of peace. He is a blemished soul, but he is unbroken, unbowed. If anything, pride is the only thing he has left. Pride and a name that means nothing more than bells chiming in the wind. 

Jongdae has more than one reason to be angry and every right to feel as if heaven has abandoned him, to be angry that this man has the audacity to look morose in the face of the crimes his lineage has commited. There is blood in his hands too.

“Undress” Minseok commands, not even looking at him in the eye as he speaks.

Jongdae’s laugh is as sour as the bile trying to drown him.

“Oh, is it now when His Imperial Highness will rape me? What an honor!” 

“Heavens, no!” Minseok exclaims, expression twisted in horror “What kind of man do you think I am?”

 _A_ _monster_. “The son of the man that burnt down the palace I grew up in, who executed my father, who threatened my sisters to the point of having nightmares about their possible fates” Jongdae shrugs, bitter smile on his lips. 

Minseok sighs deeply, resignated and frustrated in equal parts, trading his formal robes for white sleepwear, lazily looping its tie around his waist. He walks towards Jongdae, who is more than ready to threaten his life with the nearest pointed object if he tries to touch him. Or to end his own life with such object if he is forced to be bedded. 

Minseok notices his sudden movement, stepping back “I don’t want to hurt you, on my honor I swear”

“Whose honor? That of the Butcher's son?” he says, irony tinging his words.

“Jongdae” the emperor says softly, sounding like a man rather than a ceremonial beast “I’m just trying to make things right”

Jongdae laughs, loud and open, like a thunder across the sky “And how does this make things right? The ceremony said it best, didn’t it? Body and soul in the hands of the spouse. You have a daughter, an heir, and I can’t bear children. Marrying me is just making me a whore. Insult to injury, Your Imperial Highness”

“No, no!” the emperor screams, once more coming closer to Jongdae, but stopping at the very last moment, perhaps seeing Jongdae’s defiant but scared expression “Jongdae, I know it may seem strange, perhaps even delusional, but I… goddess gracious, I love you. I have loved you since we were young and I am well aware my father has caused damage that will never be fully healed, but for the honor of my mother who was nothing if not honest, I am trying to make things right”

Jongdae eyes him warily, hands balled in fists, flight or fight response mildly triggered but still listening, breathing deeply and waiting. He is a prey in the hands of a lion but he is not dumb, he won’t fall in any trap. 

“Just…” Minseok sighs, hands unclenching slowly “let me love you, you don’t even have to pretend to love me. I’ve sent your sisters to warm homes, I will wed them to high and noble men, your mother will be treated like the noblewoman she is. And I will be content with knowing you are safe. My father is dead, Jongdae, I’m the emperor now. I wedded you to protect you, to keep you from further pain. Jongdae, I won’t hurt you” 

“I won’t forgive what your father has done” Jongdae deadpans, tense like a chord. 

Minseok shakes his head, hands raised “Never would ask that of you” 

“I won’t forgive you either” Jongdae says, mustering the courage from the memories of ashes in the wind, of the bell tower burning in the horizon “I won’t forgive you for being passive when the emperor destroyed my island, for letting him commit crime after crime against the empire, for allowing him to tear families apart. I won’t forgive you”

“That is… understandable” Minseok’s voice sounds strained, almost on the verge of tears. Jongdae feels something akin to pity, yet he swallows it down with the anger his soul is brimming with since he ran for his life, smoke clouding his vision. 

“You are the Prince Consort now, you wear my name and my colors, they will protect you” the emperor clears his throat, turns around and heads for the opposite side of the bed with steady feet. Minseok slides under the covers, staring blankly at Jongdae. “We must sleep together to prove we consummated. I won't force you, be sure of that. Undress and sleep, the bed is big enough.” he turns his back on Jongdae then, sighing against his pillow.

Jongdae sleeps almost with one eye opened. Minseok didn’t lie, he never tried to touch him. Still, Jongdae stares as he walks away, mere minutes after the sunrise, hiding his face when their eyes meet, pondering if such an unorthodox declaration of love could mean something coming from the son of a relentless killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It all goes back and back, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance in our steads.”


	2. The Bells of Siheung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I would continue this story and so I did. But the updates will be slow, bear with me and my poor college-ridden soul, I need my degree.   
> Hope you enjoy this lil chapter.

Ever since he was a child, Jongdae’s life has always been defined by painful events. It’s as if the gods have taken displeasure in his birth or simply enjoy making him a victim of their schemes. Whatever reason has led to such a path, Jongdae doesn’t know it, but he has pain written under his sleeves, like the ink that marks the skin of a slave; even after freedom has been given, nothing can erase the trace of enslavement. 

When he was a young boy his only brother died. In a sea of sisters, Jongdeok had been his only companion and greatest partner in crime. He had been given a strong body and an overall healthy appearance. By age six, Jongdeok already used wood swords with the artistry of a skilled swordsman. The father saw great potential in their eldest boy and third child. Jongdae saw a hero in his chirpy older brother. And then, the Spring Fever came, taking a sister, an aunt and Jongdeok, all at once. 

The boy had collapsed in the middle of the garden, crumbling to the ground in a heap of fever, sweat pooling under his robes. Jongdae had almost gone mute by screaming for his mother. The servants carried away the feverish boy as his mother held Jongdae between her arms, telling him it’ll be alright. It wasn’t. In a single day and night of pain, Jongdeok had left them. The funeral had been held a few weeks later, under the tolling of the bronze bells that gave them both a name, a small body covered in red silk embroidered with the lion that represents the children of Siheung. 

Barely a few years after the departure of young and promising Jongdeok, tragedy had striken the empire as a whole. The Old and Most Venerable Phoenix Emperor had died unexpectedly, fell ill due to a new outbreak of Spring Fever that took his wife and one of his daughters as well. He was succeeded not by his son, who had died years prior, but by his grandson, the Boar Prince. 

By tradition, all First Princes, meaning the heir or first child of an heir, receive an appellation regarding a particular animal. More often than not, it comes from the month of the children’s birth, but sometimes the parents can choose an animal that they hope represents their child’s future and how their ruling will be. 

The Boar Prince, who went up to become the Virile Boar Emperor, was referred by the common people as “The Pig Prince”, for instead of acting like a strong, honest and loyal boar, he became an insatiable pig, intelligent yes, but easily angered and easily swayed by his base desires. Many were his lovers and many more the women who were subdued to save their family’s lives. 

One morning the Boar Emperor woke up demanding for every family in the empire, noble or commoner, rich or poor, to send their unmarried daughters to serve him as he seemed fit. The noblemen stared at each other with the hands of their daughters tightly held between their hands, refusing to let them go but ultimately agreeing with the fear of execution looming above their heads. 

Jongdae’s family became the first one to refuse the emperor’s command and paid the price for it.

The Prince of Siheung, Jongdae’s strong and always smiling father, slammed his hand on the table in front of those emissaries who dared request for him to relinquish his precious children. He wouldn’t do such a thing, so he cut the envoys’ heads and sent them back to the emperor with wigs sewed to their scalps, “these are my daughters, do with them as you want” his message said. 

Needless to say, the Boar Emperor was furious. 

It didn’t take much for him to become the Butcher. It didn’t take much for Jongdae’s mother and sisters to be sent away to a monastery in the mountains, advocating the right to a safe haven in the face of threats to their lives. It didn’t take much for Jongdae’s father to send his son away, right as the imperial fleet burned down their port, right their cannonballs blasted the bell tower Jongdae adored. The bells tolled sadly as they fell, one last song of freedom before the end. 

Jongdae’s nightmares are often filled with bells tolling out of time, chiming a million songs at once, praying for a new beginning that never comes. In his nightmares, Jongdae’s father was killed by a Boar shaped man with claws for fingers, the bells chiming a funeral song before sinking into the ocean. 

More often than not, the young man wakes up covered in a thin veil of sweat, hand stretched forward in the air as if he could stop the blade from crossing his father’s neck, as if he had seen it in the flesh and not read it a thousand times in the blood-thirsty handwriting of the Boar Emperor. (“I killed Siheung’s proud lion” he wrote to the poor widow “send your daughters, woman, and I will spare you and your male cub.”)

The Butcher died but his legacy is blood ink in the pages of history, in the memories of those affected by his crimes. Because no, Jongdae’s coastal province wasn’t the only victim of his gruesome actions. Several other families refused, that horrid command the last drop to fill the glass of their patience, and rioted. It resulted in all sorts of horrors. Fields of crops were burned, animals were slaughtered, women and children enslaved (against the law of men and gods alike) and men murdered in cold blood in front of their families.

The Butcher had no mercy, the Butcher had no remorse. And with no mercy and no remorse, the Butcher was killed, stabbed by his own garrison, that ran to the Crimson Palace to crown his heir. Before the corpse grew cold, they had already proclaimed a successor, the Ox Prince, Minseok, the First of his Name. 

Steadfast Ox Emperor Minseok lives up to his cognomen as far as one can see. Strong and dependable, but not stupid. He has made peace with those angered by his father, has sent the dutiful daughters back to their fathers and paid dowry to those who were engaged before the horrors occured, and he offered honor to the ones more wronged by the Butcher, Siheung’s Princely Family. 

After the wedding night, Jongdae has seen him from afar, cautiously rejecting every and any form of interaction with the emperor unless it was demanded of him. And as much as Jongdae’s heart wants to rightfully hate this man, he has no complaints thus far. 

Minseok keeps standing what he said that first night, keeping him safe and as much as the young lion would love to deny it, his family’s name has been restored to the high status it used to hold… or at least to something resembling the honor of Siheung’s proud lions. 

In the months he has spent in the Crimson Palace, Jongdae has received more and more missives from his sisters and they have spoken about the plethora of courtiers seeking and audience with them in their respective new homes. 

Jongdae is happy that his sacrifice at least keeps his family safe, at least saves them from shame. He can wear the name and the robes of the son of a murderer if that keeps his sisters in warm homes, with food on their plates and laughter in their faces. 

In the silver afternoons of winter, Jongdae sits by the fire and writes lengthy letters for his sisters, telling them about the novelties of the capital, of the trinkets and toys he has sent for them to enjoy, recommending books and songs. He tells them anecdotes he hears in the corridors, he tells them about rumours and libels spoken about those who live in the Crimson Palace, but Jongdae never speaks of himself. It is a duty he has imposed to himself,  _ be quiet, don’t speak of the things that haunt you, you are a lion _ . His poor sisters already suffer enough, they don’t deserve further pain by dealing with their weeping brother’s sorrow. 

Everytime he receives an answer, his heart sings with joy. Jungeun often takes the longest to reply but her words are full of poetry, Soojung makes the shortest letters with the most accurate grammar, Jeongyeon is the one that gets the most emotional and Sooyoung is the one who draws little birds in the margins. It’s beautiful to know they are safe, it’s beautiful to know they are treated with the respect and attention they deserve. 

However, it’s unsettling to know they will be visiting for his birthday… at the request of the Emperor. 

‘ _ The Ox Emperor has asked for your sisters to be present in your birthday celebration’  _ his mother wrote, neat handwriting in white parchment ‘ _ My Dae, plead for their safety. Your father did not die to keep them away from the Imperial Butcher for his son to take them with such nonchalance _ ’.

Jongdae feels irate, disrespected and mocked, but more than that he feels scared. What if the Butcher’s son is exactly what Jongdae has been led to believe since the Butcher took the throne? What if his calm expression is but a mask to hide his true intentions? One can look at ease and still plot horrors, Jongdae has seen it before.

So he calls the Emperor’s Lord High Chancellor, Junmyeon, a kind-faced man from a small but wealthy noble family from Baekje, who Jongdae has seen more times than he has his husband and who has been the only connection between the imperial consorts since their marriage (he can’t thank the High Gods enough for that blessing).

“What can this humble servant do for your Prince Consort?” Junmyeon asks, bowing lowly in front of Jongdae. 

“I request an audience with Our Steadfast Ox Emperor” 

“Then it shall be granted, follow me” the man says as he turns towards the door.

“Now? Don’t you need to ask if he can see me?” 

The High Chancellor turns to him with a puzzled look that slides down to a surprise expression “Many apologies, Your Imperial Highness, I thought you were aware of this. The Imperial person has commanded the Prince Consort to be granted audience whenever he wishes.”

“Oh”, Jongdae manages to say, nodding silently when the man asks if he wishes to proceed. 

“Why does the Emperor want my beloved sisters in the Crimson Palace?” he asks as soon as he steps into the brown colored room the emperor calls ‘private office’. Both the emperor and his secretary, a small man with broad shoulders, have bewilderment written on their faces, expressed in the way they pause mid sentence to stare at him with wide open eyes. 

“What purpose does their presence serve, Your Imperial Highness?”

“The purpose of pleasing you?” Minseok responds, half-smile on his lips as if this was something funny. but his exasperatingly nonchalant expression plants seeds of doubt in Jongdae’s heart. 

And his doubt may as well be painted in his face, for the emperor sighs and stands up, dismissing his secretary before walking around his desk and staring at Jongdae with wide sincere eyes “I was made aware that your birthday approaches and you probably miss your family, so it was decided that they shall be invited to the gala held in your honor. I only strive to please you, Jongdae, nothing more, no hidden intentions, no secret ploys”

“I see” Jongdae responds, “then I request no gala be held. I wish to spend my time in private with my family”

“Of course, as you wish, my goal is to please you”

“Stop saying that” Jongdae all but snaps, stepping back with chagrin “I take no pleasure from being a hostage”

The emperor dismisses the people in the room and Jongdae steps back, ready to flee if he so needed. But Minseok steps back as well, leaning against his ebony desk, hands gripping the edge gently.

“Jongdae. You are not a hostage, you never were, never will be. I thought I made myself clear when I said the only thing that I want is your safety and comfort. If you so wish you can bring one of your sisters to live here. I will do whatever it takes to let you know that this is your house” why is there so much suffering sincerity in his voice as he speaks? Is he such a good actor or does the man genuinely feel something? Jongdae can’t be sure, doesn’t believe he will ever be able to understand the narrative built by this man, always waiting for the ice facade to melt in summer and the running water to take it’s natural course again, for the emperor to display the same lust for gold and glory his father had. 

Still, for shameful as it is for him to feel this way, there is always a flicker of hope, a sincere wish that this is not a pantomime. That if he cannot be happy singing sacred chants in the temple by the sea, the one with the bronze bells he so dearly adored, at least he can experience some sort of comfort and calm in the cursed capital. 

“My mother stepped down from her duties as royal consort when my father died, leaving the position open for the new consort” Jongdae lifts an eyebrow, staring intently at the man as he speaks “It’s mandatory that the imperial consort holds control of the palace complex. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you with duties.” the emperor shrugs “I supposed you would want time to mourn”

“Mourn?” Jongdae scoffs, crossing his arms and letting the soft silk of his sleeves cover his hands entirely “I did my mourning, Your Imperial Highness. Seven months in a monastery in the mountains, with the fear of a siege following us like a shadow. The High Gods in their mercy saved us… I guess the Imperial garrison contributed as well”

Minseok hums, tapping the wood of the desk and keeping his eyes averted from Jongdae.  _ Coward _ , Jongdae thinks, he may not commit any crimes like his Butcher of a father, but he is a coward and Jongdae is not sure which is worse: murdering in cold blood or being complicit in the dehumanisation of hundreds. 

“So?” he says after a pause that felt as long as a century. Minseok finally meets his eyes, eyebrows raised “Will you give me control of the palace or should I return to my rooms and spend my days rotting away like a hostage?”

“Of course you can oversee the functioning of the palace” the emperor says, a gummy smile turning his face to something almost boyish, like a little kid and not a monarch with blood on his knuckles. “I will send the Master of the Household and the Deputy Master in the morrow” he turns around the desk and picks a quill, writing hurriedly in a parchment’s margin “They are in charge of the Imperial Residences as of now, so there is no one better to prepare you for the task“ Minseok raises his eyes at one point, bright brown eyes shining in the late day golden glory that illuminates the room “I am really glad you are willing to take this responsibility”

“I’m very glad to have something to do besides knitting by the fire” Jongdae answers then, turning around and walking out of the room with steadfast feet, fighting to erase from his mind the childish smile the emperor had given him before leaving. 


	3. The Fox Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with a vengeance. I will be a bit M.I.A for the next few weeks but I'm hype about this story so I will continue to write it even when uni swallows me and spits me out on exam season.  
> Enjooooooy

“And the Lady Clerk of the House of Food is…?”

“Miss Kang Seulgi, daughter of Master Kang, former Clerk of the Royal Kitchen”

“Yes, that’s correct!” Jongin says, smiling brightly “Your Imperial Highness is a fast learner”

Jongin of Suncheon is a tall elegant man with impeccable posture and a pretty eye smile. Son of a former general and a high ranking lady of the court, he was chosen as Master of the Household by the Ox Emperor himself and in the past two years he has faithfully served the throne. He carries himself with dignity and grace, a great sense of responsibility and a flawless taste for decoration. He is also chirpy and has a contagious laugh, Jongdae appreciates having animated people around him. Most of the time, hearing other people's laughs cheers him up. 

Jongdae met him briefly before, when he was young and both of them were just noblemen’s children playing in a garden, back when the Boar Prince celebrated fifteen years of being wed and barely two months before the Phoenix Emperor died. Jongdae almost forgot about that until the Master of the Household so reminded him. They played together, the young man said, made paper birds and threw them in the air to see which one flew higher. 

Jongdae said he remembered, but only to be polite. Before his chat with the man, his only memory of that event had been a foolish page boy dropping wine over his brand new silk jacket. Funny how the mind works. 

“In no time you will have memorized the entirety of the staff of the Crimson Palace and I will be no longer of use!” the Master of the Household fake-complains, smiling broadly as he opens yet another book full of useful data from hundreds of palace reports. 

For the better part of two weeks, Jongdae has been meeting in his sitting room with Jongin and his second-in-command, the Deputy Master, a clever woman named Seungwan, eldest child of Seongbuk's Princely Family, who inherited the position from her mother. It has been a very educational experience thus far and something anecdotic and entertaining to write to his sisters about. 

“No wonder our beloved emperor takes so much pride in Your Imperial Highness” Seungwan adds, mischief tinting her voice. 

“Oh, he does?” Jongdae asks, raising his eyes from the parchment in order to see whatever expression Seungwan made to accompany her bold statement. 

“O-of course!” She says, face turning serious and severe as she fumbles with the papers in her hold, “Our beloved emperor holds you in very high regard. As everyone else in the palace does, Your Imperial Highness.”

“Hmm, I see” Jongdae muses, turning his attention back to the writings in front of him, folding his hands over his lap, right under the edge of the table, gripping the silk of his long skirt with trembling fingers. What has Minseok said of him when he is not present to hear? Should he be afraid if what he has said thus far is that he takes pride in him? 

The idea of his spouse, not by choice but rather by duty and honor, feeling proud of him strikes him as impossible. But then again, hadn’t he said that he loved him? That disastrous wedding night when the emperor told him that Jongdae didn’t even need to pretend to love him, Minseok just wanted to protect him. 

It all still feels unreal, fake, manufactured by his poor mind in an attempt to make living in this world a little bit less threatening. But knowing this… knowing this makes it a little bit more vivid, as if Minseok truly feels something for him. It’s all certainly strange and confusing, a storm born out of a clear sky, thunder in the middle of the day. 

The storms raging inside his chest rise in intensity when the door opens (not few dreams have had their climax in a door opening and armed men rushing to stab him in the chest), but then there is quiet and the furious thunder dissolves into a blue sky when the person so violently opening the oak door is no taller than a dog. 

“Papa!” the small voice of Butterfly Princess Byulyi reverberates. “You are not my papa” she then says, furrowing her brows and wrinkling her nose. Behind her a royal governess shows up, out of breath and gripping her long skirts with one hand. The woman promptly picks the princess, but the child screams and kicks “Let me go, let me go, you are not my papa!”

Princess Byulyi is small but strong if the pained expression of her nanny is anything to go by. It makes sense, they said her mother was tall and strong, a proud princess from the western principalities. She died not long ago, barely months before Minseok became an emperor, probably a year before the emperor wed Jongdae. And this makes him think of this child alone in a big castle, missing a mother and with a father busy ruling an empire. And yes, Jongdae feels pity for her even if one day she will rule the world too. 

“Wait, wait!” Jongdae hastens to say, standing up and walking towards the chaotic pair. The woman sets down the girl and Jongdae crouches until they are eye to eye “Your Highness, your beloved father is in his studio” or that’s probably where he should be. 

In reality Jongdae doesn’t really know where the emperor is, doesn’t bother to ask unless he needs something. He doesn’t want to ask where he is at the moment but there is something about kids that soften him up. And Princess Byulyi, hidden away from the world and only seen by his eyes twice -counting this chaotic moment-, fits nicely in the soft spot inside his heart, with pretty brown eyes that resemble those of her father and pouty lips. 

“I want to see my papa” she cries, eyes filling with tears “where is my papa?” 

“Here,” Jongdae says, taking his handkerchief and drying her tears with a steady hand “Why do you want to see your papa?”

“I had a bad dream”

“Oh, did you?” Jongdae purses his lips, furrowing his eyebrows with great concern “What was it about?”

“Grandpa came back and he tried to hurt papa” 

Jongdae smiles sadly, he can relate to a nightmare like that.

“I see” he says, patting her arm softly “but the Boar Emperor is no more. He left to never come back.”

“He is dead, right? Papa buried him...” she asks and Jongdae opens his eyes wide, he didn’t know a six years old girl would have an understanding of death. 

“Yes, and he will never bother you or your papa again” that reassures both him and the little girl, “I tell you something, let’s go out. The sun is shining and I’m sure you want to play in the garden, don’t you?” Byulyi nods softly “Well then, please dress the Imperial Princess and take her to the gardens…” under the furrowed brows of the nanny, Jongdae blushes, smiling awkwardly “If the emperor so pleases.”

“The emperor pleases in this” Junmyeon announces, a few days later as Jongdae walks by the hand of a tiny lady that insists on showing him the fountain that, in her ‘expert’ opinion, resembles his face. 

After Byulyi’s initial invasion of his private studio, Jongdae has taken the duty of visiting her and her entourage of governesses and nannies daily, making sure she is being well kept. Of course this is not a natural duty of his and, after continuous lessons in matters of palace-running, his duties have only increased. Adding ‘child-care’ to that list doesn’t seem like something he would do, especially considering this girl is the child of the monarch he is wedded to, the same man he refuses to speak to whenever he has the option to flee. 

But Byulyi is adorable and clever, a witty little girl with a quick temper and even quicker feet. It’s not unusual to see the nannies chasing the little girl around the palace, sometimes half naked because the child refuses to take a bath, and thus all that chase her have their eyes half closed and large linen sheets in hand to capture the rogue swamp creature. Not a few times Jongdae had seen women and men trip over their feet on their haste to trap the Butterfly Princess.

“Huh, that’s good” the Prince Consort replies, pretending to pay attention to the flower Byulyi points out in the middle of the garden and the totally unrelated story that accompanies it.

“Yes, indeed it is. He sees with good eyes that Your Imperial Highness visits the Butterfly Princess,” Junmyeon nods, a serious expression on his face as he bows his head severely when the little girl talks to him about a bird in a tree branch before forgetting about it and continuing to walk. “Our beloved Ox Emperor is sure that your influence would be good for the young heir and the nation shall greatly benefit from it.”

“Is that what he said?” Jongdae asks, unsure of such a bold statement. 

“Yes, although not in these terms” the Lord High Chancellor raises his arm and shakes his hand from side to side “I am not allowed to speak of the secrets of our monarch, but he was… way too excited for his own good, if you allow me to speak informally.” 

Jongdae laughs at this. This is often what he hears in terms regarding his person. The emperor gets told something that Jongdae wants to do or is doing and the reaction he gives is tampered down but still excited. What a dumb man, Jongdae thinks,swallowing down the lump that forms around his throat because what he truly wants to say is ‘oh, that is so endearing!’.

“Look, look!” Princess Byulyi screams, tugging his arm and taking flight on steady feet, forcing Jongdae to keep up with her to avoid either of them tripping and falling face first to the floor “It’s you, Prince Dae!”

Jongdae hears the muffled laugh of the chancellor more than he sees it, but it still hurts. Because what he comes across is a statue no taller than himself, seated in the middle of a small fountain, the water dripping from a jug he carries in between his hands. It’s the Fox Prince, the main character of an old legend Jongdae’s father told him and his sisters when Jungeun was but a babe in arms. 

In the tale, the Fox Prince, born a normal human noble, saves his family from a painful end by allowing a powerful wizard to curse him and turn him into a hybrid creature, with high and sharp cheekbones, sleek golden eyes and a pair of fox ears born from shiny red hair. It is a sad story really, for he becomes a cursed servant to protect those he loves. 

He is sure Byulyi doesn’t understand the nature of Jongdae’s personal sacrifice and that Junmyeon is only laughing because the statue is strangely caricaturesque, and yes, those high cheekbones do resemble Jongdae’s expression. Still, Jongdae feels his heart caught in his throat, so he just nods when Byulyi asks if he likes it and listens to her hasty and incomplete retelling of the Fox Prince tale. 

“Many apologies, Your Imperial Highness,” the Lord High Chancellor says when they are back inside the building, Butterfly Princess taken away by the maids but not before she properly says goodbye to her friend, ‘Fox Prince Dae’. “I have noticed your expression has turned rather gloomy after the fountain incident”

“You are wrong, Lord Junmyeon” Jongdae says, smiling widely and hiding his hands under his sleeves “Don’t mistake my pensiveness with gloominess. Thinking is an act of great intelligence. I can’t recommend it enough.” 

Byulyi keeps calling him Fox Prince, asking him to play the part in tea parties she hosts in her sitting room, surrounded by governesses that make sure every need of hers is sated. 

It's not bad being a fox, Jongdae reminds himself. Siheung was a principality of lions, that has been their representative animal for centuries, but no one has ever seen a lion near their pretty shores. But, on the other hand, the fox population had been large in the northern parts of the principality and the common folk had developed some sort of worship to the creatures, saying that foxes were shapeshifters, cunning and clever, who could protect them if they pleased them with offerings of food and gold. His sisters said Jongdae was a bit like the spirit foxes the people spoke of, and when he felt bad about such words, Jongdae's father had patted his shoulder and told him that being a fox, much like being a lion, was a source of pride.

"Foxes are small but their fur is brightly colored" the Prince of Siheung had said "They are clever, persistent, will try time and time again to get to their desired prey. They adapt to their circumstance and make the most out of it. It's good to be a clever fox" 

Jongdae may not be a real fox, but he has the cheekbones of the statue outside the Butterfly Princess' rooms, and if foxes are persistent and resilient, then Jongdae shall be as well. It's a good life aspiration, to adapt and overcome the ruthless challenges life throws at him.

Besides it's nice to pretend he has an invisible tail and pretend with the little princess that she one day will have wings like a monarch butterfly and fly away from the palace. 

But Jongdae doesn't think she looks much like a butterfly. One day, after seeing her furiously eat carrot soup, Jongdae calls her ‘Little Moon Rabbit’, laughing at her wide open eyes as she asks what’s a moon rabbit. He then tells her an entirely made up version of the Rabbit in the Moon legend, partially because he wants her to feel magical and partially because he doesn’t remember the original story in its entirety. 

“When I grow up, I will visit the moon” she says, drawing with charcoal in a large piece of parchment. Her hands are black and so are her cheeks, covered in traces that her fingers have drawn “And I will build a castle for all the rabbits that live in the caves.” 

Jongdae dips a small handkerchief in water from the basin by the window and turns to her, taking her face by the chin to clean all the charcoal “You will, little bunny?”

“Yes!” she screams, shaking away the prince’s hand when he pats her head “And I will build it in granite so no one sees it and they can live happy in their house!”

“That’s very nice of you, Butterfly Princess” Jongdae celebrates, sitting by her and staring intently at one of the maids that enters the room almost in a livid state, standing by the large window with hands behind her back.

“I don’t want to be a Butterfly” Byulyi complains, furrowing her brows “Can I be the Rabbit Princess?”

“Don’t be ungrateful” a third voice joins, Jongdae turns over his shoulder to see the figure of the emperor on the threshold. “Being a butterfly is good,” he says, stepping into the room with slow steps, almost cautious.

“Papa!” the princess yells, jumping from her seat and into the arms of her father, who spins her around in the air before sitting her back on her big chair. 

Jongdae hastens to stand up and bow, but the emperor stops him, hand gripping his forearm gently. 

“Please stay. I won’t be here for long”, he says, big pleading eyes and the beginning of a smile curving the edges of his mouth. Jongdae nods, returning to his place by the side of the little princess. 

“Why do you want to be a Rabbit?” the Ox Emperor asks, two consorts flanking the small lady. Jongdae feels strangely awkward now, as if he is interrupting the privacy of a family. 

“Because rabbits are pretty and soft” she says, picking back her charcoal pencil and returning to her drawing “Chancellor Junmyeon looks like a rabbit” Byulyi muses, tracing big bunny ears on a vaguely human shape. 

“He does, doesn’t he?” Minseok’s eyes meet Jongdae’s over the drawing and the Prince Consort averts his eyes to Byulyi’s concentrated expression. 

“I like bunnies” the princess asserts, nodding intensely. 

“I will get you a bunny for your birthday” the emperor promises. 

She raises her head and opens her eyes big like plates “Oh! Can it be big and brown?”

“Of course, whatever my Butterfly wants” 

“I want to be a rabbit!” she complains, whining and turning to Jongdae, tugging his sleeve “Tell him, Fox Prince, tell him I want to be a rabbit!”

“Fox Prince?” Minseok raises an eyebrow, biting his lower lip in an evident effort to not burst out laughing in front of his daughter. Jongdae couldn’t be more humiliated. 

“Yes, he is a fox! I decreed it!”

“Decreed? You are not the emperor, little monster” Minseok ruffles her pretty brown hair and she sputters indignantly, leaning back to escape from him. 

“But I will be!” Byulyi screams “and then I will decree that I am a bunny and Prince Dae is a fox!”

“If His Imperial Highness so wants, he can be a fox. He can be whatever he wants, whenever he wants, with whoever he wants,” the emperor barely glances in Jongdae’s direction, who half smiles for Byulyi’s sake only. That doesn’t sound like a conversation one would want to have in a room covered in golden and white butterflies. Nor a conversation he truly would want to have in any other given environment. 

“Think of me whatever you want, Your Imperial Highness” he says when both of them have been requested to leave in order to start the princess’s evening lessons “But know this, I was raised to keep vows and promises and the marriage vows are holy to my family.”

Minseok sighs, stepping towards Jongdae with a frustrated expression “That’s not what I intended to-”

“I care not for what you intended.” Jongdae interrupts, hands hidden and chin high “I won’t give you a reason to be ashamed of me, Your Imperial Highness, neither a motive to get rid of my head”

“That will never happen,” the emperor says, shaking his head adamantly “your life is of the utmost importance to me.”

Jongdae smiles, bitter words melting on his tongue “I am sure it is. Now, if you excuse me, Your Imperial Highness, I must leave” he says, bowing lowly “There are letters I need to write.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! pssst! i have news! the tentative lenght of this fic will be 12 chapters! so stay tuned!


	4. Four Lionesses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I had a bit of a one day break and decided to use it to write more of this.   
> Enjoy <3

“It sounds oddly romantic,” Soojung says, flipping back and forth between the pages of the letter he had written and never sent. 

“No, it does not” Jongdae complains, shoving a handful of blue cheese into his mouth and passing it down with a very peachy wine “It sounds manipulative and commanding. As if I was an object!”

“High Gods be blessed, you can’t be serious!” Jungeun shouts, indignantly. “Brother dearest, he would have called you a valuable asset or something along those lines if he would have thought of you as a piece in a board game.”

“I agree, although I can’t say this makes me happy…” Jeongyeon muses, brushing her chin with thumb and index finger. 

“Yes, I can’t be happy either,” Soojung shakes her head, leaning closer to Jongdae and pressing a hand to his forehead “These thoughts have turned you into a stone! See how cold you are!”

“And you look terribly pale” Jeongyeon agrees.

“Have you been out in the sun lately, brother?” Jungeun asks over a mischievous smile. 

“You arrived this morning and are already bothering me” Jongdae shakes his sister’s hand, tired of them fussing over him as if he wasn’t the older sibling “I should have you sent away to your homes”

“My home is Siheung that burnt,” Sooyoung says a minute later, looking at her lap with teary eyes. She had been strangely quiet since she arrived, lips pursed and brows furrowed. 

Jungeun scurries to her side, taking her right hand between hers and softly caressing it. Jongdae feels guilty for even mentioning a home in the presence of his dear sisters. He offers them mulled wine before Soojung switches to talking about the weather in the capital and the horrid clothes she had seen several high-ranking ladies wear. 

The quartet of maids from Siheung arrived early in the morning, each from their respective new houses, one far away near the mountains, other in the east, near the sea and two by the poppy fields of the north. Jongdae had sighed, genuine relief flooding his lungs when he saw them in the flesh, rosy lips and full cheeks, well fed and well cared for. Alive and breathing, showing up in the Crimson Palace two days before his birthday. 

The girls had smothered him with hugs and kisses on his cheeks. And they had taken great pleasure in seeing him with full cheeks too, even if Jeongyeon accused him of being too skinny for his own good. 

When they came across the emperor, diplomatic and polite as usual, the princesses had kept their heads down, wary and eerily quiet. Well, at least three of them did. Soojung had never known shyness nor shown fear, she was born as the oldest daughter and after Jongdeok’s death, she had been the second child of Siheung’s Princely Family. And in the coldest hours of their days after their father had been killed, Soojung would be the last one standing when her sisters crumbled. She had her moments of weakness, of course, she is human after all, but only showed her tears in the face of her strong older brother who in turn would cry alone to keep the family standing. 

So when the Ox Emperor asked how their trip had been, Soojung stepped forward and stared right into the eyes of the emperor as she explained how uncomfortable her trip from the Liu Family’s castle had been due to the ill nature of the roads and asked if he had plans to make them more easily travelable. Sooyoung, Jungeun and Jeongyeon had paled at that, staring at Jongdae as if he had any idea of how to contain Soojung’s tongue. Minseok had furrowed his brow and answered truthfully that he hadn’t thought about that, but would take into consideration her suggestion. 

“He could have had you killed!” Jeongyeon had said then, slapping her arm softly. 

Soojung smiled triumphantly “But he didn’t, so I win”

“Do you think we will ever see Siheung standing again?” Sooyoung asks, waking by Jongdae’s side with arms full of flowers she collected in the Imperial Greenhouse. She is adamant on her intentions of making flower crowns for them all, as her hostess, a sweet-mannered lady named Joohyun, had taught her the optimal technique to make them sturdier and prettier. 

The afternoon sun is burning like the towers of Siheung had back in that fateful day when they lost it all. Soojung, Jungeun and Jeongyeon are sitting in the shade of a large oak tree, sitting on their capes and putting down food and drinks from the baskets they had requested in the palace’s kitchens. They too burn, dressed in gold and red, pretty lionesses of Siheung. 

“I don’t know” Jongdae answers, fumbling with the lace decorating the ends of his jacket’s long sleeves. “I hope we do, I hope Soojung’s children live in the same castle we lived in, I hope they play in the same gardens we played in.”

“That would be nice” Sooyoung muses, sitting by Jeongyeon and sorting her flowers and leaves into tidy little piles, eyeing her older sister intently as she says: “If our dear Soojung gets the Master of the Household’s attention her children will be glorious.”

Soojung blushes furiously, throwing her handkerchief at her and causing a generalized cackle between her siblings. Jongdae didn’t miss the way the pair had stared at each other after she spoke to the emperor. He had been there to deliver palace reports to Jongdae but stayed a few seconds in silence, enthralled, almost bewitched. Jungeun had laughed out loud at his frozen-in-time pose, half bowing, and that had set him in motion once more, checks darkened as he gave the Prince Consort the papers in his hands and then scurried away in shame. 

“Oh, wouldn’t it be nice?” Jeongyeon says, crossing her hands over her chest “Soojung’s children being taller than our Dae! Finally we would have men to uphold Siheung’s tradition of being tall like bell towers!”

“Quiet, Yeon” Sooyoung says, threading two big roses together with small white wildflowers “He is the emperor’s consort, he could have our head cut”

“As if he would dare to put me on a scaffold” the princess sputters, shrugging nonchalantly “After all, it’s his birthday tomorrow. It would be distasteful to have one’s sister executed the same day you celebrate your birth. The ancestors wouldn’t like that”

“The spirits wouldn’t either!” Jungeun interjects, shaking her head sternly. “Killing a sibling without reason calls for the Moon of Blood.” Jongdae expected her to talk, after all Jungeun had always been the most spiritually connected of the siblings. She is particularly inclined to follow the Old Rituals, a religion older than the empire itself that worshipped the moon goddess. 

“The Moon of Blood sounds terrible” Sooyoung says, placing her first finished flower crown over her hair, red roses framing her face rather nicely. 

“It is!” Jungeun answers, adjusting the crown so it sits better on her head “The Moon of Blood brings terrible misfortune.” 

“Worse than the bells burning?” Soojung questions, half joking, half concerned. 

Jungeun hesitates to answer, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. Jongdae stares in silence, waiting for an answer, but Jungeun instead cries, muffling her tears with the sleeve of her dress. Soojung looks away as Jeongyeon scoots closer to kiss the top of her little sister’s head and ask her about the upcoming full moon. 

“Is he always there?” Sooyoung asks later, subtly pointing at the palace. 

Jongdae and her are the last of the siblings out in the garden, sitting on a stone bench, watching the sunset color the sky in beautiful shades or pink, orange and yellow. Jungeun said she was tired, Jeongyeon said that she didn’t want to leave her alone and Soojung said nothing, but followed them inside, probably to apologize for making Jungeun cry. 

The servants are fussing around, turning on the lamps that illuminate the paths between the flower bushes, bowing silently when they pass in front of Jongdae and his elegant sister.

He follows the line her finger traces and is surprised to see the emperor there, standing behind a window. He is there and as soon as they make eye contact, he is gone, curtain closing violently. Jongdae smiles unconsciously, then schools his face into a neutral expression and turns to Sooyoung. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I’m not usually out at this time”

“Well, he seemed to be there for a while now” Sooyoung furrows her brow, staring at the high window with narrowed eyes “I saw him when we were eating early too, but he seemed to be pacing around, stopping in front of the window for a blink an walking away the next second”

_ Huh, weird _ . Jongdae has seen him watch the gardens in the mornings, but Jongdae had been out with the little princess that is his daughter so of course he would keep an eye out for her. It’s his only child and his only heir, her safety is also the safety of the empire, the succession line secured as long as she is alive and healthy.

However, that gets Jongdae thinking, does the Emperor find him threatening? Is he looking out of the window because he saw Siheung’s pride sitting in his beloved garden, talking to each other lively, and thought they looked like a roundup of surreptitious creatures? It would be fair to think that the surviving members of a family that his father threatened and ousted from their home, turning wood into ashes and killing their patriarch, could potentially plot a revolt. 

But the emperor has swords and soldiers, lords and princes who follow him loyally, even the Boar Emperor had some of those, how could this softer version of that man have no followers? On the other side of the imperial hedge, Jongdae and his sisters probably have a dozen of allies who belong to other families whose lands were ransacked by the Boar Emperor. To think that those few people and the angered spirits they carry with them are enough to overthrow an emperor would be absolute madness. 

For Jongdae it brings some sort of peace, and maybe somewhat of an equal footing on the imperial marriage, knowing that perhaps this all powerful man fears him -or potentially could fear him- just as much as Jongdae fears him.  Still, he couldn’t plot an insurrection even if he wanted, too afraid of being caught and being sentenced to die for his treason. Jongdae smiles, neatly folding his blanket on the end of the bed, spring is warming up and the insulation so loved in winter is starting to feel heavy on his body, he is not the leader a coup d'etat would need. 

The thought alone makes him giggle, Jongdae who knows how to read half a dozen languages because he spent his childhood behind old books, following scholars that visited his home, asking a thousand questions, plotting about spilled blood. It’s too exhilarating, but scary. 

Besides, Jongdae doesn’t have any reason to rebel. Despite his reservations he is well cared for and his sisters do seem content with their present situation, taking out of the equation the tears they sometimes spill about the home they lost. It’s inevitable to long for what once was, he too misses the rose gardens and the orchards, the kennels full of puppies and the visitors from the other side of the sea that would sleep under their roof occasionally, trading shelter for wild anecdotes and strange artifacts. But the girls don’t tend to dwell on it too much, just flashes of sadness on otherwise sunny expressions. 

That’s good, he thinks as he bids them goodnight on the doors of their rooms, that they have sun in their smiles even at midnight. 

He is walking to his own room, escorted by one of the many faceless soldiers that custody the halls, when he sees the emperor.  Minseok is carrying his daughter, sweet princess Byulyi asleep over his shoulder, drool falling from her parted lips like water from a leaking fountain. Jongdae doesn’t get the chance to hide, choosing to bow as the man stops in front of him, a position well suited to hide the smile that the endearing pair had caused him.

“I didn’t expect to see you here” the emperor says in a low voice, careful not to wake the child. He seems surprised, although not displeased. That's good. 

“Same goes to you, Your Imperial Highness” Jongdae answers, peeking at the girl. “Is the princess alright?”

“Oh, yes, she is” Minseok answers, smiling and petting Byulyi’s soft brown hair “Our dearest Butterfly Princess requested to stay with me while I worked, but couldn’t keep herself awake. So I’m taking her to her bed before doing the same with me.”

“Oh, good night to you two then, Your Imperial Highness” he bows low, ready to walk away. 

“Are those your sisters?” the emperor asks and Jongdae turns to find a blur of brown hair disappearing behind a door that closes with a loud thud. He sighs loudly, brows furrowed in concern. Why were they prying? Don’t they know they shouldn’t see the emperor if he doesn’t want to see them? The laws are worded to call death upon those that- 

“They are very fascinating women,” Minseok says, derailing Jongdae’s increasingly worried thoughts. 

Shaking his confusion, Jongdae smiles proudly, of course they are.  _ You are staring at the four lionesses of Siheung, born from high cliffs and sea salt like most legends are _ , he wants to say. That’s what he used to say before the fires, that his little sisters were like the forgotten goddesses, and then he would call them too ugly to be deities and they would retaliate calling him all sorts of mean things that he barely paid attention to. Siblings bickering and bantering but never with ill intentions behind their words. 

Jongdae thinks that he must be getting too old spiritually, being this nostalgic before reaching thirty seems to be quite unnatural.

“Could I ask you to accompany me for a moment?” the emperor says, then hastens to add “I want to ask you some questions.” 

“Of course, Your Imperial Highness” Jongdae responds, even if his knees are begging him for rest. But well, he is just the imperial consort and if the emperor wants him to walk on his knees he is bound to do it. It’s duty, what other thing could it be?, what makes him follow the emperor with his sleepy daughter on his sturdy arms. 

“How old is your sister Soojung?”

“Twenty three winters, Your Imperial Highness.”

“She is very young, almost too young to be so knowledgeable,” he muses, pursing his lips “but very bright,” he adds a second later, switching the weight of his child from one arm to the other. 

“She is the brightest of all my sisters, but they can’t know that” Jongdae berates himself for saying that, as if the emperor cares about his stupid feelings for his sisters. But then Minseok is smiling in a manner that seems amused but fond. 

“Worry not, my lips are sealed” he says, mimicking a key locking his lips “Princess Jungeun is the youngest of your sisters, right? The one with the longest hair,” Jongdae nods slowly. “I saw her visiting the palace’s temple today.”

Jongdae blinks in astonishment, he didn’t think Minseok would pay such close attention to his sisters. That is equal parts alarming and charming. 

“She is very passionate about her faith” he replies, hands half uncovered but uncaring of it.

“Oh, is that so?” Minseok threads a few locks of Byulyi’s pretty brown hair, kissing the top of her head with a pensive expression. “Hasn’t she thought of the Imperial Recint?” he then says, glancing at Jongdae with a serious expression “She could become a priestess of the Old Rituals.”

Jongdae’s brows furrow tightly, “but it’s only for maidens of the imperial blood, Your Imperial Highness.”

Minseok smiles. “She is of imperial blood. She is your sister is she not? Your are imperial blood and those who share your blood are imperially blessed as well”

“I don’t think that’s the wording of the law” Jongdae says, one eyebrow still trying to reach his hairline. 

“Ah, you see, Jongdae,” the emperor stops in front of the large bronze doors that mark the entrance to the Crown Princess quarters “my father taught me very few things and most of those lessons I’ve fought hard to forget. But one thing he said remains true and I hold it close to my heart,” the guards push the doors open and he sets a step into the dimly lit chambers “the law is what the emperor says it is. And where he used this for personal satisfaction I will use it to make amends” he sighs then, staring at Jongdae from underneath his lashes, something that shouldn’t be possible considering they are nearly the same height. 

Minseok stares at him for a few seconds, making Jongdae wonder what exactly is going through his mind, making him question if he knows what the emperor truly means. Emperors have always been all powerful and while many had been bad monarchs, none had been as cruel as the Boar Emperor. 

Could it be that Minseok is truly trying to make things right? Could it be that he really loves Jongdae? And if so, how could he love him so much if Jongdae barely spoke to him on the rare occasions the imperial heir and the princely heir would meet, back in Siheung’s green gardens? Jongdae only remembers seeing his face a handful of times and the memories are foggy, always obscured by the smoke of the burning bell towers.

Eventually, Minseok smiles, almost laughs. "Farewell and good night, my Prince Consort," he says.

Jongdae bows, "Farewell and good night ... my Emperor." Minseok’s smile had been wide as he retreated into his daughter’s rooms.

In the morning, as Jongdae and his sisters celebrate his birthday with a lavish breakfast full of exotic fruits, all sorts of pastries and cakes, expensive wines made under harvest moon -Jungeun insists he must drink three goblets of it for it carries the reapers blessings - and all sorts of strange and delicious teas, Jongdae can't tear his eyes from the small letter accompanying the full table that was his gift.

In between many well wishes for the new year of life he has been given, that wide eyed bastard with pretty pink pouty lips had written ' _ I hope I can truly be  _ _ your _ _ Emperor, someday' _ . 

Jongdae’s heart feels like it is bleeding out. Is it because of a sword of sour feelings or an arrow of golden hope? He does not know and he is too scared to wonder which one has wounded his already wretched heart.

Seven days after Jongdae’s birthday, when the carriages are being prepared to leave with their lion princesses away, Soojung stays back. It’s a sunny morning and she is wearing a pale red dress as she shows her sisters a golden enamel pin in the shape of a boar she is to wear everyday from now onwards. 

“I have been summoned by the emperor to take part of his imperial council” she says, to the marvel and concern of her sisters. “I will stay in the palace and advise the emperor in matters that neither of his current assessors could.”

Minseok had asked Jongdae what he thought of it. And Jongdae’s initial shock had dissolved into a smile when he remembered how fondly Soojung had spoken to him just a few days before, about the Master of the Household and his sweet manners. It makes Jongdae think that perhaps his sister can find happiness in between the high walls of the Crimson Palace. She can go from a simple council member to a proper Imperial Advisor and maybe even become Lady High Chancellor and stand just a step below the imperial family. 

So Jongdae smiles when the emperor visits him that afternoon. 

“Hopefully you will join the council sessions,” Minseok says. He’s sat in front of Jongdae in front of the wide open windows, fresh spring air filling the room. His eyes are downcast, looking like a beseeching man as he fumbles with his long outer black skirt, embroidered in silver and white patterns. 

Jongdae would be lying if he said it didn’t feel powerful to have an emperor begging water from his hands. 

“Of course, I need to stand up for my sister if an old grumpy general decides to mistreat her for being too young to serve the empire,” Jongdae answers, tapping his knee lightly.

Minseok side glances at him, eyebrows sliding down to a somewhat sad smile. 

“Of course, a good brother would protect his sister.”


End file.
